Head on a swivel
Hello from the hinterlands! It’s Day 4 of The Great Disappearance, where I can supposedly take my BlackBerry off the hook (it’s an old expression–ask your parents) and spend two weeks living like a druid. Rise when it’s light, eat when I’m hungry, conduct pagan goat sacrifices right before bed, that sort of thing.
Thanks to the Internet, however, I can prairie-dog up from my blissful ignorance and write a quick post about single parenting. Um… hooray?
I’m here to tell you that, as challenging as single parenthood is, this is anything but misery. I bring the boys up here to escape the city heat and bestow them with the tan lines, foot calluses, and bug bites that all Boys of Summer deserve. Plus, there are all sorts of relatives to share the burden of engagement. Uncles to throw footballs, nanas to play Go Fish, and cousins to help build colonies of fiddler crabs. Pretty soon, we lose all track of “days” and “hours,” and just exist together. There ain’t nothing Awesomer.
That said, there are also times like this, when I’m home alone with the boys and poking away at this stupid handheld while they rightly pester the bejeezus out of me. It would be easy to lament this situation and pine for a two-parent family with a set policy for division of labor. But the fact is, I can name about a dozen married couples who almost never see each other and have thus become de facto single parents. It’s become an epidemic, wedded or not.
Guess what! My sons have remembered the time exists and are counting off every minute that I’m wasting their vacation. So I’m going to cut this short and go back underground. Plus, we have to get to the goat farm before it closes at Dark Time.